Imperfect Situation
by TopHatGirl
Summary: Craig gets himself into the most awkward situations, unwillingly. Twoshot.
1. Part 1

**A/N: Never written about Craig before. Decided to take a whack at it. There's a really long, drawn out beginning because I'm trying to get better at detail. THIS IS A TWO-SHOT. **

**P.S. For Christmas, I'm asking for a Craig style hat. **

Fuck.

I tap my pencil, ignoring the drama going on around me. Like I give a fuck what's going on in this shit town. Just get through high school, then leave. Permanently. I sharpen my pencil to a death point, and start doodling. A corpse with a pool of blood starting to form. A dead angel. A little girl with a knife...

"Got a lot of hate in you," The kid with a splash of red in his hair states in a monotone voice. "Maybe you're not one of the soul sucking hypocritical Nazi cheerleader bastard love soldier..." The list of adjectives go on. "-people in this place."

I flip him off. "I'm not joining you goth fags."

"Psh." He jerks his hair, and it goes back to it's original place. "Whatever."

I huff, burying myself in my hat. My jagged black hair sticks out in places, and I don't bother to push it out of my eyes. Just another annoyance.

Mundane school days hold little interest to me. The same monotony routine that makes school suck ass. My leg twitches and bounces. My fingertips tap the notebook page, not making a sound. Cartman is gruffing racist remarks, Tweek is a spastic mess, and Token is asleep. I wish I could fall asleep. My antipathy for this place grew stronger and more resilient with each passing millisecond.

Like a rubber band snap, my attention was launched into reality as soon as the bell rang. I groggily gather my books that I never read, and shove them in my backpack. People attempt to start meaningless conversations with me, and I ignored them. Why they bother, I may never know.

It takes me an eternity to open my locker, forgetting the combo. Then I remember it's written on my middle finger. Not a good idea, since I flip people off so much. Could read my combo. I get my coat then slam the door. The hallways are crowded, with people doing gymnastics, sucking face, and being statues, not moving. It takes my force to shove them out of the way. Fucking idiots.

I'm anticipating home by now, the promise of cheesy poofs and some working out(a balanced routine is the way to be fit!), when I see Cartman leaning against my car.

"Get off, that's a nice car. Don't want you leaving a dent, fatass," I say.

"How original. And your cars a piece of shit," he says.

"Not all of us have whore moms who can afford anything on a prostitute's salary."

"Shut up. Do you want to know why I'm here?" he asks.

I sigh. "Not one bit."

I unlock my car door, tossing my backpack in the back seat. Cartman, the gentleman, plops in the passenger side.

"Get out," I say.

"First, listen to what I have to say."

"Fine. Spit it out."

"You know you and Clyde, right?"

"No, I don't."

"Everyone says your fags."

"We're not together."

"Never said that. I just said that you two are fags. Not saying you're making out, though you probably are."

How do people even know this stuff?

"Anyways," Cartman continues, rummaging through my glove compartment. "I need you to have a fag one on one with Kahl."

"What? I'm not having sex with Kyle."

"God Craig, stop putting words in my mouth! I'm saying, convince him to come out of the closet so I won't have to watch the vomit inducing fag looks he's giving Stan all the goddamn time."

"Me? Mr. I Don't Give A Fuck? No. Way."

"Come on, Craig. I'll give you money."

I pause. I do need a new laptop. "How much?"

"Twelve dollars."

"No deal."

"Twenty?"

"You'll have to do better than that."

"Thirty?"

"Psh. You have more money than that. I saw that iPad in your backpack."

"Goddammit Craig. I hate you."

"Don't care."

"Fifty."

I think this over. "Okay."

"Damn right it's okay. Invite Kahl over for a little chat. And you have to record it or something so I know you did it, kay?"

"Whatever."

"Say okay!"

"Get out of my car, Cartman," I say, giving him my best steel hard glare. He mutters some curse words at me, then heaves himself out of my car. I pull out of the parkinglot, finally getting to go home.

Fuck.

What have I gotten myself into?

**A/N: Review for Part Two!**


	2. Part 2

**A/N: Here it is, the conclusion to this two-parter. You should review, because if you do, I might tell you the super big project I have coming up for lovely Craig.**

I knew making one of my walls a gigantic whiteboard was a good idea. I scribbled equations on my board, random ones. Distract myself.

_Ping!_

My computer tells me I have an instant message.

**KyleBBoy15: Hey craig. Cartman told me u wanted to hang with me?**

Fuckkinggggchrist.

**CraigFuckerMother: Yes; there's something I need to talk to you about.**

**KyleBBoy15: Wats with the perfect grammer dude?**

**CraigFuckerMother: There's nothing wrong with perfection. Do you want to "hang" or not?**

**KyleBBoy15: Watev. Sure. 2Morrow, after skool?**

**CraigFuckerMother: Okay. Tomorrow.**

_**KyleBBoy15 is offline. **_

If this God everyone talks about is so great, then he would shoot me in the head.

I paced back and forth.

Let's imagine how this conversation will go.

Oh, hey Kyle. I just need to talk to you about being gay.

No, that's fucking lame.

So, Kyle. I hear your joining the dark side of the closet...

That's just weird.

_Ping!_

**BigBonedCartman: Didja do it fag?**

**CraigFuckerMother: Do what?**

**BigBonedCartman: The fag talk.**

**CraigFuckerMother: The date is set for tomorrow. **

**BigBonedCartman: Good.**

**CraigFuckerMother: The price is now up to 60 bucks.**

**BigBonedCartman: Fuk you.**

**CraigFuckerMother: Too late. If you don't pay, then I'll tell Kyle that you're gay for him.**

**BigBonedCartman: Fine. But remember, you are videotaping this. **

Fuck.

_Later_

Kyle shifted uncomfortably on my bed. I took out my special stash of cigarettes, for stressful occasion. I think this counts. He watches as I light up a cigarette, and take a long ass drag. My webcam is on, and Cartman will see everything. But he's on mute, so I can't hear or see him.

"I didn't know you smoked," Kyle says.

Sigh. Better get it over with.

A line of smoke escapes my lips, and I look out the window. Wishing a bomb would come and blow up everyone.

"I didn't know you smoked," Kyle started.

I paused, clutching my cancer stick a bit harder. "Of course. Because you assume everything about me."

Long, stretched out silence.

I take the cigarette out, and balance it on my fingertips.

"I've been asked to talk to you about...your preferences..." I can hear fatass's pig laugh right now.

"What?" Kyle asks, his red hair spilling out of his hat.

"Look, I'm going to spare the awkward guessing. I'm here to talk about you being gay," I blurt out.

FUCK.

"I don't know what you're talking about?" He says it like a question. I smirk, and roll my chair(it has wheels) closer to where he sat on my bed. I obnoxiously blow a stream of smoke into his face. He doesn't flinch.

"I know you're gay, Kyle. And I think you need to come out of the closet. Stop denying everything," I say.

_Satisfied, fatass? _I silently ask Cartman.

Kyle avoids my gaze, staring at his clean hands.

"How did you...know?" he asks.

"When you're gay, you have an awesome gaydar," I say. Hell, was I just coming out of the closet to Kyle? I mean, it's not a secret. I just simply never told anyone, because I think everyone is a fucking moron.

"Oh..." Kyle said. The word floated above us, and disappeared. Kyle stood up, and took a step toward me.

What happened next was out of my control.

Kyle lowered his head down to mine, and enveloped his lips into mine, ruffling my hair.

Was Kyle kissing me?

This kid is seriously confused.

There is no fireworks. No warmth. I feel nothing.

But Kyle keeps going.

I decide to let him explore.

Like I give a fuck.

Let him figure out if he's gay by kissing the most emotionless kid in school.

I bet Cartman is having running marathons with this.

I slowly kiss back, getting to my feet.

It continues like this, just standing. Just kissing.

Then Kyle puts his hands up my shirt.

Everything shifts.

I react instantly, pushing Kyle away from me.

He lands on my ground, confused and wondering.

"No," I say, looking away from his hurt face.

Without a word, he gets up, and leaves.

I realize my cigarette is still danging from my fingers. I bring it up to my lips, and take a long inhale.

Drop the cig, letting it fall to the floor. Smash it with my feet. Go over to my computer.

Bring up the webcam, seeing Cartman's completely shocked face.

I give him my smuggest smirk.

"Enjoy the show, fatass?" I ask.

No answer.

"That's seventy-five dollars you now owe me," I say, then close my laptop.

I smile wholeheartedly.

Fuck.


End file.
